


Too long I roam in the night

by Whenyourhairisalsoahood



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Bram Stoker's Dracula, F/F, Halloween!, Horror, Murder, Rope Bondage, Sadism, Suspension Bondage, Vampire AU, Vampire Sex, blood play i guess is inherent here?, dodgy faux-victorian dialogue, kind of a dracula crossover, not cuddly vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 01:58:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16379222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whenyourhairisalsoahood/pseuds/Whenyourhairisalsoahood
Summary: A simple girl meets vampire tale, set in the 1890s.





	Too long I roam in the night

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!!!! 
> 
> This is straightforward vampire porn, for those of us who spent our teen years (and beyond) dreaming of being turned. I've been on my own on trains a lot recently, and inspiration hit. 
> 
> No, I'm never giving up my Kate Bush titles.
> 
> This exists in the same universe as Bram Stoker's novel Dracula, and in my head it has similar costuming to the Winona Ryder/Sadie Frost (the only cast members who matter) film. These are the sorts of powers and abilities I've written this vampire to have: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Count_Dracula#Powers_and_weaknesses. It starts towards the end of where Dracula finishes. Also, Renfield didn't get murdered, he came to work for Violet.
> 
> I've started a second chapter featuring Aquaria, in present-day America. Whether or not I'll finish it by the 31st is anyone's guess. I haven't even started my Miss Piggy costume yet.

The second funeral for Lucy Westenra is a closed casket affair. 

She had looked beautiful at her first funeral, laid out in a glass coffin. Her lips had still been pink, standing out against the layers of sumptuous white lace that swathed her little body. 

There are rumours that under the lid of her second, hopefully more permanent, casket Lucy is missing her head and her mouth is stuffed with garlic. 

Violet knows that to be true. Lucy is truly dead now, rather than undead. She can always sense the presence of a sister. The garlic is making her head pound and stomach roil, and she can't wait to make her escape from this repugnant, degenerate place. 

She wears a purple velvet hat with a veil that covers her face. Every time the priest raises the cross or the Host, Violet closes her eyes behind her veil as if she is experiencing a strong pang of grief. 

Violet has been given strict instructions to watch out for Dr Van Helsing. She scans the crowd but cannot see the Dutch doctor, or any of his companions. 

Instead, her eye is taken by a beautiful young woman in the crowd. 

Violet had first raked her eyes over the woman as she had swept down the aisle and seated herself on the first row of pews, dabbing her eyes ostentatiously with a lace handkerchief. 

The woman's dress is made from thick black silk. Yards and yards of it are gathered up into a bustle that is so voluminous and flamboyant that she can't sit properly on the pew and instead has to swivel to the side. The back of the dress scoops low to display a crescent of golden skin that seems to glow, even inside the dank Chapel. Her hair is gathered into a demure bun at the nape of the neck, with just one chestnut curl teased out to settle on the delicious line of her shoulder. 

Violet can hear her heartbeat from the other side of the chapel, and it is curiously slow and still. Most of the other mourners have the rapid heartbeat that Violet associates with the human emotions of fear, grief and anxiety. But although she keeps dabbing her handkerchief against her face, Violet cannot discern any sincere emotion from the woman. She likes that. 

The Priest drones on, peddling his falsehoods. Violet supposes everyone has to find a way to eat. She passes the time imagining what the woman's face looks like. 

She doesn't get so much as a glimpse until the end of the ceremony, when the woman glides back down the aisle. 

Her face is as beautiful as promised. Her complexion is the same golden brown as her back, ringed deep brown curls that are swept back off her elegant neck. Her eyes are an even darker shade of brown, and like her skin they look lit from within. Most intriguingly, her mouth is painted in an obscene scarlet hue, much too sensuous for a funeral. 

The front of the dress is more modest than the back, coming up to the base of her throat. But over her décolletage she wears a glimmering necklace of blood red rubies. It makes Violet's mouth water. 

Unlike the back of the dress, there is no wastage of fabric here. The fabric is cut exactly to her form, not a centimetre of spare fabric anywhere. There are two finely sewn darts to accommodate the swell of her breasts. 

In the time that Violet has moved amongst humans, she generally finds them lumpen, dirty and graceless. This woman is the exception, she seems to glide rather than walk. 

Violet makes her way outside of the church and follows the procession to the crypt where Lucy is about to be interred for the second time. 

The woman leans against a tall grave, topped with a sculpture of a weeping cherub. The cherub's face looks chubby and inane, a poor complement to the exquisite woman standing next to it. 

Violet sidles up to her, "I'm Miss Chachki. It's a pleasure to meet you on this sad, sad occasion." 

The woman pouts a little and affects a sob that sounds more like a moan of pleasure. 

"Please, call me Valentina. How did you meet my dear Lucy?" 

Valentina's voice is smooth and musical, accented with something that Violet can't quite place. She has a provocative way of fluttering her thick black lashes and cocking her head as she speaks. It all makes Violet hungry. 

Violet weaves the tale that she had concocted in order to sneak her way into the funeral, and Valentina nods along with it. Every so often she sniffles into a tissue then cries "Oh, it's so desperately mournful," with shamelessly dry eyes. 

She hooks her fingers in the crook of Violet's elbow and leads her away from the crowd and deeper into the graveyard. 

As she does, she whispers about the rumours swirling around Lucy's sudden illness and mysterious death. There is mischief in her eyes as she explains that Lucy was known to have multiple suitors and had been spending a lot of time with her _closest_ friend Mina Harker. 

"Her closest friend, Valentina? I've barely heard of a Mrs Harker." 

"Well, she's only a school teacher, so I don't think Lucy let her mix with many of her circle. But I've heard that they were _very_ intimate. Especially towards the end, when Lucy got _unpredictable_." 

Violet nods solemnly, then lets Valentina tell her more titillating stories of Lucy's last days. Valentina seems to have heard something of a night where all of her suitors, and Doctor Helsing, were heard shouting, banging and groaning from within her bed chambers. 

As she gets more animated in her storytelling, Violet senses Valentina's pulse quicken. The drumming is almost overwhelming. Violet doesn't have a pulse to quicken in return, but something inside her quivers. 

Valentina's beguiling eyes dart from Violet's black irises to her precisely drawn cupid's bow as she speaks. 

"Miss Chachki," Valentina says in a coquettish tone, "Where is it that you are staying tonight? I do so hate the thought of you travelling back to your accommodation alone, owing to your great distress." 

Violet imitates her tone of faux genteel delicacy, "My carriage is waiting, Miss Valentina. I have instructed my Coachman to wait for me while I pay my respects. My home is a little way out of town." 

"Are you travelling alone?" Valentina asks, putting dainty fingers over her mouth, as if shocked, "Please let me accompany you, so you are not alone in your hour of need." 

Violet thinks about her assignment to locate Dr Van Helsing. She's intrigued by Valentina's motivations. Perhaps she's an agent of the Doctor's herself. Perhaps she wants to get Violet alone to capture, maybe even kill her. It's an amusing, diverting thought. 

"Oh you angel," Violet coos, "Perhaps when we get to my home we could light the fire, I'll pour us a glass of wine and we can share some of fondest memories of our dear little Lucy." 

"Yes!" Valentina squeals, "We'll raise a toast to Lucy. The prettiest angel in heaven!" 

Violet can't resist, she leans in to Valentina's ear to whisper, "Although, if the rumours are true..." 

Valentina leans in a little closer to reply, "Well then, yes, the prettiest little slut in hell." Valentina giggles and Violet feels her moist, hot breath on her cheek. It's disgusting, and so arousing. 

Valentina's heart is going rabbit fast now. Violet can practically feel the vibration of it. She smells of a rosy perfume, and underneath there's something earthy and human. 

Valentina wraps her gloved fingers around Violet's, "Shall we depart? I'm exhausted with grief." 

Violet leads Valentina to her carriage. It's jet black and well-appointed with crushed velvet seats and thick curtains for the windows. She nods to the coachman, and he crops the horses to get them to move. 

Her headache seems to lift as soon as the carriage pulls away from the so-called-hallowed ground of the churchyard. The further away from it they get, the more energised she feels. 

She can't bear making any more trivial conversation with humans. Luckily, Valentina seems content to stare out the window at the changing sky. The sun is shrouded in mist, giving a hazy orange glow that deepens to blood red as it meets the horizon. Violet's powers grow as it darkens. 

Violet couldn't ever allow Valentina into her home. There are too many arcane books, ancient self-portraits, and other incriminating items to be found by curious young ladies. 

When Violet feels a bit more energetic, she calls more cloud to them. It thickens and thickens, until they can barely see out or the windows of the carriage. 

Valentina puts her hand against the glass, "Look! It's positively ghostly out there!" 

The moon has risen, but they can barely see her through the fog Violet has commanded. 

The horses whinny in panic, and Violet hears their feet scuffle on the dirt track. Her Coachman roars, and cracks his crop across their muscled flanks. The horses refuse to obey and the carriage jerks as they strain against their harnesses. 

"Oh the poor dears," Valentina sighs, still sickly sweet, "I've always felt a great affinity for horses." 

"Why don't you get out and see if you can soothe them as you soothed me earlier? You were such an efficient little nurse," Violet suggests, arching her thin black eyebrow. 

Valentina gamely alights from the carriage, springing down from the step into the ground with her bustle bouncing behind her. 

Violet follows after her, her supernatural grace allowing her to do it with a bit less drama. She can barely stomach the smell of them, but she wants to see what Valentina does next. 

Valentina is already stroking the nose of one of the horses. His nostrils are flaring rapidly, the whites of his eyes rolling. 

"They just want rules, a bit of guidance," she breathes softly to Violet. 

"Is that right?" Violet asks. 

Valentina nods, flutters her eyelashes. 

She moves her hand from the horse's muscular neck to its fine leather bridle. Violet had it made for her a century or so ago. It's exceptional leather, embossed by a master craftsman and finished with heavy golden rings and buckles. 

"These are beautiful," Valentina says, caressing the buttery leather. 

Violet slides her hand down Valentina's side. She can feel the ivory boning of the corset underneath her fingers. Beneath that, she can feel the heat of Violet's body. 

"Thank you," she sighs. 

She turns to the coachman, who has been used to Violet's tricks for several decades now. 

"We're stranded,” she says, “I don't think this fog will lift until morning. I think it's best if we stay at a nearby coach house. I think I know one a little way from here." 

The forest is thick, barely any light is coming through the trees. Violet is not sure what Valentina is able to hear, but it is clear to Violet that the forest is alive with hundreds of creatures unpalatable to the tastes of well-bred young women. 

Valentina puts on a little swoon, "Oh Miss Chachki, this night is full of horrors! Thank the Lord you here, for while I am with you I know no harm will befall me." 

"Mr Renfield, you go ahead and secure our accommodation, and we'll follow along. We can leave the horses here until morning." 

Violet lets Valentina stroke the horses while Mr Renfield uses his stick to beat back the brambles, clearing a path for the women. There is a little coach house with some guest rooms along this stretch of the forest, where a couple and their adult daughter work. 

Violet strokes the curve of Valentina's waist in time with the rhythm of Valentina stroking the horses. She slides her fingers up Valentina's back, fluttering them over the skin exposed by her dress. Night is drawing in fast now, and her skin is bumpy with goose flesh. Every fine hair stands on end. Violet walks her fingers up the bumps of Valentina's spine, and she shivers. Violet's lips curve up in a deadly grin. Though Valentina is more vulnerable to the cold, she still feels scorching hot to Violet. 

Violet pushes her fingers into Valentina's hair, starts tugging the fine metal grips and ribbons holding her bun in place. She lets them fall to the forest ground, scattered among the fallen leaves. 

Valentina tilts her head to the side, opening the angle between her neck and shoulder. The human smell is intensifying, blooming out of the side of Valentina’s neck. It's making Violet dizzy, reckless. 

She teases her hand through Valentina's hair. It has curled up from where it has been so tightly bound all day, and Violet brushes it out so it pours down her back. It's a beautiful sable colour, more or less the same as the horse's shining mane. 

Valentina groans as Violet's nails rake over her scalp. She tips her head back and Violet can see her eyes squeeze shut. 

Violet uses her superhuman hearing to listen for the thump of three lifeless bodies hitting the barn floor. They come just as Violet is tugging her hands through Valentina's hair, pulling more sharply every now and again to make Valentina's hands tremble on the horse's bridle. 

"I think Mr Renfield should have secured safe passage for us now, Miss." 

Like most of her kind, Violet has limited control over a small number of creatures that includes foxes, moths and bats. Violet could urge them to stay away from the path cleared for her and Valentina. But she doesn't. Instead, she summons them towards the path. 

The eyes of foxes gleam as they pass, and bats fly through the thin shafts of moonlight. Owls scream from high in the trees. Every time Valentina feels a moth fluttering near to her hair she screams, kicks up dirt as she jumps and ducks to avoid it. Her breath is coming faster and faster. She’s panting, big huffs of breath that end on a gasp when she is startled. Her fear is genuine now, it's making Violet wet. 

They arrive at the coach house to a roaring fire, and Mr Renfield sitting with his feet up picking viscera out of his teeth. 

Valentina has lost some of her affectations during their journey through the forest. Her eyes are wide with terror and her hair looks wild, curling about her head in every direction. 

"Mr Renfield, I'm taking Valentina up to her to her room for the evening." 

She grabs a bottle of brandy off of the table with one hand, and then with the other she wraps her long, pale fingers around Valentina's wrist. She's dazed and pliant, and Violet easily leads her up the stairs. 

Violet selects the largest of the coach house's guest rooms. It has its own fire and a grand wooden framed bed with a soft feather mattress. The room is low with thick wooden beams crossing the ceiling, some marked with old hooks and nails. 

She pours a generous glass of brandy and hands it to Valentina, who takes it and sips it gingerly on the side of the bed. 

Violet perches on the bed next to her, "My, Miss Valentina, the hem of your skirt has suffered at the hands of the forest. Let me release you from it." 

Valentina must be a woman of some considerable wealth, the tiny buttons of her dress are covered in the same material as the rest of the garment, then tucked away so they are almost invisible to the naked eye. 

It doesn't take long for Violet to strip her of her dress and corset, leaving her only in her white petticoat. The white is brilliant against Valentina's tanned skin. She looks virginal and pretty, the bride she'll never be. 

Valentina looks up at her plaintively with her dark eyes, and Violet leans down to brush a kiss over her lips. The first time, their lips barely touch. Violet just lets herself feel the softness of them, and the slight jump of the labial artery. 

The second time she presses a little harder. She moves her lips against Valentina's until she whines into Violet's mouth, opens her jaw to accommodate her tongue deeper. 

Violet gives it to her, and then moves her hands down to Valentina's breasts, still shrouded in her petticoat. Violet plays with her nipples through the fabric, rolling them between her fingers until Violet is moaning steadily, bumping her hips along the mattress and squeezing her thighs together. Violet wants to ruin her. 

Violet pulls back and Valentina blinks at her with blown, glazed eyes. 

"What do you want?" Asks Violet shortly. 

"Lucy taught me something she called a 'Spanish Kiss.' She said I should learn it, out of respect for my heritage," Valentina says slyly. 

The coquettishness is back. Valentina shuffles back onto the bed, drawing her petticoat over her head and tilting to sit on her hip, show the curves of her thighs. Violet's eyes flicker between Valentina's small, perfectly circular areola and the bush of black hair between her legs. 

"How might one perform a _Spanish kiss_ , then?" Violet has an inkling of what Valentina is alluding to but wants to be shown. 

"You take off your own clothes first, and come and kiss me some more," Valentina says flirtatiously. 

"Unbutton me then," Violet commands. 

Valentina gets up on her knees and crawls to the end of the bed, breasts swaying underneath her. Violet wants to reach down and pet them, each would be such a sweet palmful. 

Her dress has a higher collar than Valentina's, and a fuller skirt. She lets Valentina unbutton the back of her gown and then help her out of it and the skirts underneath. While Valentina is busy on her buttons, Violet slips off her elbow length black gloves. 

Violet slips her own petticoat over her head, smirking at Valentina's gasp. She knows her own body to be spectacular. She has firm, flat breasts and a waspish waist. She brushes her waist length sheet of black hair behind her shoulders to give better contrast to the lines of her body and her milky skin. 

"Lie back on the bed," Violet says imperiously. 

Valentina lets herself fall back before arranging her hair and then placing her hands palm-up on the pillow either side of her ears. The archetypal damsel-in-distress. 

Violet crawls over her and kisses her, undulating her chest to bring their breasts together. Valentina groans as she does, reaching around Violet to grab clumsily at the swell of her buttocks. In return, Violet reaches up to wrap her hand around Valentina's throat until her fingers drop from Violet's skin. 

"Show me what you did with Lucy," she demands. 

Valentina plays at being coy. Although Violet knows it's an act, she can't help the way it makes her ache for the stupid little girl. 

"Well," Valentina starts, “I would lay back. And she would face the opposite way, and we would... Kiss each other." She lowers her eyes to the bedsheets as if she's embarrassed to say the words they both know she's capable of using. 

Violet gets into the position, then uses her limbs to pin Valentina to the bed. She doesn't attempt to put any extra effort into holding down the human, but she knows that she easily has the strength of ten of their kind. 

Valentina moans greedily, "You're so strong." 

At that, Violet does push down a bit harder. Her hands are iron around Valentina's ankles. Valentina's moan turns into a pained gurgle. Her body trembles underneath Violet's. 

Violet dips her tongue down between Valentina's legs, and she yells at the contact. Violet feels like yelling too. The girl's cunt is searing hot and tastes both sweeter and sourer than she remembers humans tasting. Violet gives Valentina's clit a hard suck to make her jerk and wriggle. 

"Go on, lick me," Violet taunts. She knows that Valentina will barely be able to struggle up against her grip. But miraculously, the more she twists and strains up against Violet’s hands, the wetter she gets against Violet's mouth. 

Valentina grunts as she pushes her tongue out, trying to lick Violet's clitoris. Violet knows her skin will be cold as glass, and she won't get nearly as wet as Valentina. Nevertheless, the sensation is just as powerful for her. Perhaps the sensation has even been sharpened over time, she doesn't remember it ever feeling this good while she was alive. 

Violet writhes down onto Valentina's mouth, making serpentine movements with her hips. Every part of her skin is tingling, and she wants to take full advantage. 

Valentina is pushing her tongue out flat to lick at Violet’s clitoris while nuzzling her nose into her entrance. She’s moaning steadily right against the skin of Violet’s vulva, and the vibrations are driving her crazy. Valentina moves her hands downwards to push between their bodies and play with Violet’s nipples, then brings them up to feel her tiny waist. She grips Violet hard around the waist when Violet speeds up the circles she’s drawing around Valentina’s swollen clit. Then Valentina sweeps her hands around Violet’s back and up to her arse, kneading it firmly. 

Valentina's thighs are either side of Violet's face. Her two strong, healthy femoral arteries are throbbing through the skin. At first it distracts Violet, then it becomes the drum beat spurring her on. Blood turns her on, she can't help it, and having two coursing channels either side of her head is ecstasy. 

Valentina starts moaning louder, wetness flowing from her and over Violet’s cheeks. Her hips shudder against Violet’s face. Violet knows the human will feel overstimulated now, every touch against her clitoris will feel like a knife. She doesn’t stop, and Valentina’s yelps and twitching are what helps her reach her own orgasm. 

Violet knows that her fangs are protruding. Valentina must be able to feel the smooth surface of them pressed against her pulsing cunt. Violet does what she can to angle her head so that she doesn't piece the fragile skin. 

Violet can tell that her face has changed, become more vampiric. Her nose wrinkles up like the shout of a bat, her eyes become tinted with infernal red. She keeps Valentina pressed into the bed to stop her seeing Violet before it subsides. 

When her face changes back to it’s more delicate iteration, Violet takes the large porcelain jug and dish to the bathroom, before filling the jug and bringing it back to the bedroom.

The desire she felt for the human a moment ago has soured to nausea, and she needs to wash the filth off her skin. 

She scours a wet towel over her face, and then places her leg up on the desk so she can shamelessly draw it back and forth between her legs. 

Valentina sits up in bed, "I know what you are." 

Violet stops. Wrings the towel. Drops the towel back in the water. Scrubs again from her mons to her arsehole. She's not concerned, there's no way Valentina will walk out of this room alive unless Violet wills it to be so. 

"I think you're magnificent," Valentina continues. 

"I think I'm pretty magnificent too," 

"So you don't age?" 

"No. I don't age." 

"Won't die?" 

Violet snorts, "No. I won't die by any natural process." 

Valentina looks enthralled, "You can control the weather? Control animals? Transport yourself as if by -" 

Violet interrupts her roughly, "Yes, all of that." 

Valentina's eyes are wider, blacker than when they were kissing. 

"Turn me," she breathes, "I don't want to die. I don't want to feel hurt, or pain, or wither like a crone and turn to dust. I want to be like you. A Queen of ice." 

Violet can't imagine Valentina ever looking like a crone. An elegant dowager, but not a crone. 

Her hair flows around her neck and down over her shoulders. Her pink toes wiggle in the sheets, and her cheeks still have their post coital glow. 

Violet feels a protective, almost maternal, urge come over her. The last few centuries have been lonely and painful, not at all like the eternal youth Valentina imagines. 

She brings herself to her senses. She can't allow herself to leave Valentina alive, so she might as well give her what she wants. 

"I'll give you what you want, but I want to make it pleasurable for me, too. Stay there." 

Valentina nods, mouth slightly ajar. 

Violet leaves the bedroom and descends the stairs. She nods to Mr Renfield, who gives her a knowing smile. 

She goes out to the barn, steps neatly over the bodies of the proprietor and his family, and finds herself a long length of natural rope. 

When she gets back to the room, Valentina is lying back on the bed, leisurely reaching down to play with herself. Her legs are long and luscious, splayed out over the bed. Violet watches her fingers disappear in and out of her black bush for a moment. 

Then Violet clicks, points at a spot on the floor, underneath a large metal hook, "Stand there." 

Valentina scrambles to obey. 

Violet lets her stand while she sorts out the rope, pulling it roughly between her hands to sort out any tangles or kinks. 

She starts off standing pridefully, a model of balletic posture with her head held high. But soon she starts slouching, sticking her hip out to one side and resting her hand on it. 

Violet gives her hair a tug, "Stand like a nice young lady." 

Her posture improves dramatically. Violet knows young women of a certain class and age will pose for each other's sketches and paintings, and she wonders if Lucy and Violet ever drew each other. 

Violet starts by threading her ropes through a heavy hook sticking out of one of the beams, letting the excess trail over the floor. Valentina's eyes follow her hands, widening and darkening as they watch Violet work. 

Violet moves to stand behind Valentina and ties a basic harness around her torso. Every time she knots the rope or changes its direction she gives it a firm tug, to hear Valentina gasp and moan. 

The rough rope looks good against Valentina’s smooth skin. The harness forms diamonds around Valentina’s breasts. They look delectable, and Violet can’t resist leaning forward and giving each nipple a little kiss. 

Then she gathers Valentina's arms behind her, bending them over each other so her wrists touch her elbows. Violet lashes them together roughly, smirking as Valentina wriggles from side to side. There isn’t enough rope for her to stand comfortably with her feet on the floor. With her arms behind her back she over-balances and stumbles. Her feet scuff across the floor as the ropes stop her from falling down. 

Valentina's breasts bounce from side to side as she struggles to stay upright. Violet reaches out and grabs the hard nubs of her nipples between her sharp nails. She pinches hard enough to make Valentina wince, then rolls them between her fingers hard enough to make Valentina's eyes water. 

Violet carries on tying Valentina up haphazardly. She doesn't have a plan, just keeps on looping and knotting the rope around her limbs until she's sure the ropes will take her weight. Violet winches the ropes up until Valentina is dangling weightlessly in mid-air. She looks like an animal caught by a hunter, brought back as a trophy. 

Valentina has one leg bent behind her at the knee, with her shin tied to her thigh. Her other leg is splayed out to the side so that Violet can observe its elegant shape. She’s tied it tightly above the knee and at the ankle, both ropes leading upwards to the hook above their heads.

Violet reaches down between Valentina’s legs. She's just as wet as earlier, if not wetter. It's slipping out of her entrance, over her labia and down to her thighs. 

Two of Violet's elegant fingers slide easily between her folds. Valentina groans and rolls her head on her shoulders, squeezes her cunt around Violet's fingers. 

Violet withdraws her fingers and takes a step back. She observes the splotches of colour on Valentina’s cheeks, the tremble of the muscles in her stomach.

Violet raises her own foot and gives Valentina’s thigh a good kick. 

Valentina’s eyes widen comically. She jerks in her ropes like she’s trying to catch herself from falling. There’s no point. She can’t do anything but swing in her ropes for Violet’s amusement. She twists in them, but Violet has tied them too tight for her to turn herself over or around.

Violet laughs and gives her another, harder kick on the thigh. Valentina squeals and struggles more furiously. She swings faster and her hair flies over her face. It falls over her face but Valentina has no way of brushing it out of the way. Her heart is thumping, the smell of her sweat is so strong that it’s making Violet dizzy. 

Violet steps back into Valentina’s space. The stench of Valentina’s combined fear and arousal threatens to overpower Violet, she grabs on to one of the ropes holding Valentina to steady herself. She brings her fingers back down to Valentina’s soaked pussy and slides them in again. She gently moves her fingers in and out, curling them up into a spot that makes Valentina tremble and shake. 

Violet gathers pace, pumping in and out of Valentina faster and faster. Valentina keens and tries to rock her hips back into Violet, but all she can manage is getting herself to bounce up and down in her ropes. She has no purchase, no leverage, no power. 

Violet leans down and sucks hard at Valentina's neck. Having the girl so helpless is causing Violet's gums to retract again, leaving her fangs showing through. 

She teases Valentina with them at first, rubbing them back and forth over the skin of her neck. Valentina whines every time she does it. Her eyes roll back into her head until Violet can only see their whites. 

Violet changes the angle of her head so that the tips of her fangs rest on the surface of Valentina's skin. She puts a tiny amount of pressure in the bite and feels the girl's supple skin resist. 

"Please," Valentina whimpers, “Do it.”

Violet bites down. She feels the skin split under the pressure. The taste of copper bursts across her tongue. 

She sucks delicately, only wanting to induce the trance like state that a non-fatal bite will cause in a human. After a few more quick swallows, Violet draws back. She grabs a corner of the bedsheet and dabs at the trickles of blood dribbling down her chin. 

Violet watches Valentina hang in her ropes. She pushes Valentina's messy dark hair out of her face. Her eyes are vacant, mouth stretched in a lazy smile. 

Violet gives her shoulder a shove and Valentina swings to the side and back again. This time, Valentina seems so blissed out that she just giggles and tilts her head so her hair pools down her back. 

“Whee!” Valentina laughs to herself. 

Violet trails her nails down Valentina's chest and stomach, leaving a bright red mark in her wake. 

Then she drops her hand down lower again and rubs the pad of her finger lightly over Valentina's clitoris in a figure-eight shape. 

Valentina tries to spread her legs as best as she can while suspended. She can’t move her raised leg any further but she tries to spread the leg bent at the knee. She whines as she strains against her ties. 

It obviously takes a lot of effort, sweat is beading at her temple and running down the side of her neck. Her cleavage is gleaming with it. Her black public hair is matted into gleaming curls with it. Wetness is running from her cunt down her legs. She’s filthy, and Violet wants to destroy her. 

Violet pushes herself inside Valentina again. Valentina shouts and twists in her ropes. The harness on her chest shifts and Violet can see the red places where the rough rope has rubbed her skin raw. The next time she does this, Violet thinks, she’s going to tie little knots in the rope and tie it across the girl’s vulva. One for next time. For now, she adds another finger, twisting all three into Valentina's tight cunt. 

Violet builds her rhythm, carefully listening to Valentina's moans and her powerful heartbeat. 

Valentina tries to thrust her hips towards Violet to get her to fuck her deeper. Violet just leans backwards to put her fingers just slightly out of Valentina's reach. Valentina whines and tries to jerk her hips forward pathetically. It does nothing except incite to Violet to tickle her dainty pink labia with the tips of her fingers until Valentina looks about ready to cry. 

Violet eventually takes pity on her, fucking her properly. Valentina is squeezing around her, the muscles of her cunt squeezing desperately every time Violet pulls out. 

She is waiting for Valentina's orgasm to hit. It's unmistakable when it does. Her moans turn to screams and her body seems to ripple and undulate in mid-air. 

When Violet judges that it's at its peak, she leans forward and plunges her teeth into Valentina's neck. This time she is far less neat and gentle. She rips into the skin of Valentina's neck almost sideways. 

Valentina's blood spatters her face and it spurs Violet on to bite down harder. She's twitching with her own pleasure as Valentina's blood flows down her throat. She swallows greedily, every inch of her skin tingling. 

Valentina thrashes violently in the ropes, and Violet uses her other hand to hold her neck still. Valentina's skin is so slippery with blood that Violet's hand can't quite get a good grip.

Valentina's hands grip and twist, as if she believes she's able to fight her way free of her ropes.

Eventually Valentina stops struggling. Violet steps back to look at her handywork. Both the holes in Valentina's neck and her cunt are red and swollen, clenching down on nothing. 

The girl is limp and silent, mouth hanging open. 

Violet rips through the rope holding Valentina, tearing through it as easily as cobwebs. She catches her and throws her carelessly on the bed. Violet holds her palm in front of Valentina's mouth and waits to feel any puff of air against her skin. None comes. 

Violet pulls her body up the bed to prop her up against the pillows, arranging her long brown hair around her shoulders. Her wrists are bruised from the rope. 

She really was beautiful, just like Lucy. 

Violet's still ambivalent about turning the poor dead girl into a vampire, but she supposes that she did make a deal. 

She reaches under her breast and draws her sharp fingernail across the skin, and then back the way it came. It makes a cut shaped like a cursive v lying on its side. 

Violet watches her own viscous blood ooze out of the cut for a little while, then kneels up on the bed so she can bend over Valentina. 

She cups the back of the girl's head tenderly, leading her in towards the wound. At first, she's unresponsive, and Violet draws her fingers through her own blood and rubs them on Valentina's lips. 

Valentina stirs a little, a frown appears between her eyes. Soon she's sucking rhythmically at Violet's chest while Violet cradles the back of her head. 

Valentina sits back. Her eyes are bright and sparkly, colour flooding back to her cheeks. She touches her own canines with her finger, "I think it's working."


End file.
